Triumph's Shout
by ChaosSpartan575
Summary: Skyrim has been torn apart by civil war as the land seeks its independence from a dying Empire. Oblivious to the real threat in the shadows, it increases its power from every death lost to this war. Prophesies tell of only one individual that can stop this threat, the Last Dragonborn. However those of the dragon-blood have passed from this world... or have they?
A/N: Hey I am back with a new story. Another from that March through April writing binge that I went while trying to work on the latest chapter in Lost in Paradise. I was also working refining and adding more meat to Legend of the Phoenix and Velotius et Fortius. Hopefully I'll get Lost in Paradise back on track as that story has been a joy to write and one I really wish to see through to the end. I will conquer this strain of writer's block I swear. Anyway, here is my Skyrim story that I have been working on. I took much from Game of Thrones and other works like Lord of the Rings as inspiration to make something unique in how the story of the Prince who was Promised... (coughs loudly) I mean Dragonborn plays out. Sorry about that, just drawing parallels between Skyrim and ASoIaF/GOT. You know a civil war tearing the land apart while a darker threat lurks in the shadows biding its time while it readies to consume everything. Reviews and criticism are welcome as always. Enjoy.

I do not own Elder Scrolls, Bethesda does.

* * *

The wind was a cold biting maelstrom as the blizzard set in. Throughout the valley, fog rolled in, and the wind whistled, heralding doom to all who tread there. However, the voice of the wind went unheeded as the two armies clashed below. Those clad in the red and heavy leather of the Imperial Legion clashed with the blue cloth and fur clad army of the Stormcloaks.

Blood froze into the snow making the footing for both sides treacherous, and as the blizzard descended, the fighting continued. Among them a young mercenary fought tooth and nail for a way to escape the storm. It didn't matter what colors the fighters in her path were wearing, money was no good if you froze to death. Despite being a Nord, she knew full well a blizzard could last for days, especially near Dawnstar were the snows never melted like they did in the Reach or Riften. Finding shelter was a priority she didn't intend to waste…

A shield smacked her back sending her sword flying into the snow as she landed hard on the ground. She groaned, but rolled over out of the way for the strike she knew was coming. She did so just in time, a sword pierced the snow where her back was not a moment before. She scrambled back on her hands and feet and grabbed fallen imperial shield and held it up to deflect the Imperial's next stab. It worked for a moment. Her attacker staggered a bit, but regained his footing quickly as only experienced warrior could achieve. The Imperial soldier clad in heavy armor than most growled and kicked her new shield away before she could reach for the dagger in her belt.

The Imperial stabbed downward piercing into her gut causing her to lurch up in pain. She let out a gurgled cry before spitting up droplets of blood and her breathing quickened as she fell back into the bloody snow.

"You Nords and your old gods. Your kind should have died out long ago." he sneered as he twisted the blade. The young Nord let out a cry of agony, before the Imperial ripped the blade out letting blood flow freely from her wound. He stood above her his sneer turning into a cruel smile. He lifted his sword above her heart. She grasped the hilt of her dagger not in retaliation but pray that it would considered a weapon worthy enough to go to Sovngarde with. The great mead hall of the afterlife. Time slowed and despite her approaching end, only a small part of her ever regretted joining this war.

That is when she saw it, black wings unfurled swooping down from the sky. Her eyes widened as it came straight for her blurred by the setting white out of the blizzard.

The Imperial took note thinking she was afraid of him and his sneer turned into a grin.

"Go to your Shor and tell him an agent of the Eight sent y…" He never finished as the figure swooped in and grabbed him in its claw. He screamed as the figure flew away only drop him from high up, his figure lost into the storm as it blew in. The beast swooped down again, this time fire erupted from the creature's maw, bathing the battlefield in fire using the storm as cover.

The young nord stared at the scene for moment, watching the soldiers caught in the creature's fire run round aimlessly, the battle forgotten as their screams and cries rang mute against the blizzard's howling winds. The cold wind whipped across her face and she snapped out of her trace.

She applied pressure her wound and started crawling, gritting her teeth and as she scooted along the battlefield pressing her left hand tightly to her wound. She crawled and came upon a body not like the others. The brownish-orange robes marking the dead woman wearing them as disciple of Kyne. The priestess was no doubt here as a healer, and that meant…

With all the strength she could muster she dug through dead priestess' pouches looking for a healing potion. The Nord saw her pouch of potions halfway under her person. With a weak yank she tugged and tugged until it came loose letting out a loud cry as she tore up her already gruesome injury. Frantically the young nord dug until she found the vile she was looking for. She pulled the cork and tried to chug it only to almost gag it back up. It was terrible, but she forced it back down not letting any of it go to waste. She began to feeling the effects immediately and the pain of her body slowly stitching itself back together was almost enough to make her pass out.

She gritted her teeth as she reached into the dead priestess's bag once more to hopefully find some sort of pain killer. With the injury healing she again noticed the wind whipping through her cheap old helm once again and the cold of the storm seeping in, working its way into her bones. Even if her people were much more naturally resistant to any form of cold than all the other races of Tamriel, it did not grant them complete immunity. She made to stand only for her to tear at her healing wound. She coughed and sat back down, spitting out some blood. She looked through the priestess' pouch once again. If her face had feeling she would have smiled at what she found. She pulled out a green-hued potion. She had a hard time closing her hand and pulling the cork as the tell-tale signed of frostbite were starting to set in. She pulled it off and drank it. It didn't taste so bad as the first and almost immediately she felt as a fire started coursing through her veins. Feeling rejuvenated she stood once again. This time she managed to ignore the pain.

Her need to find shelter driving her through the snow-covered land. Despite not being able to see five feet in front of her face she planted one foot in front of the other. For how long she did this, she didn't know and as the effects of the potion wore off, the ground shook. She looked to her left and found herself paralyzed. She saw the only thing that could cause such a rumbling disturbance land, kicking up more snow. The winged creature that attacked the armies landed not twenty feet from her. Its face and long neck looking away from her as if searching. For what reason she did not…

A shrill scream loud enough to pierce the storm. The young Nord felt fear pass through her as her cold shivering muscles shook even more with terror. Whatever the beast was, it was hunting stragglers from the battle. Then it looked back and she saw red eyes seemingly burning through the fog. She stood stock still. It stared a moment longer, almost squinting before taking flight. She waited several moments freezing in the snow filled wind before continuing her path to find shelter.

She knew not how long she walked before finding a little shack hidden on a small rocky alcove, protected from the storm. She walked up and shakily turned the ring styled handle. The door opened and she found herself standing in the doorway of the tiny shack. Her eyes adjusted to the fire lit room. She saw two figures, an old Nord couple with surprised looks on their faces as she must have been a sight standing in there doorway covered in bloody iron armor. They stared at her a moment before the old man grabbed long and sleek sword from nowhere. The woman brandished one as well ready for a fight. The young nord simply stared back at them, unsure of what to do until the warmth of the cabin brushed against her at it escaped out the door. Her body decided for her as she collapsed to her knees and fell face first on the floor of the cabin, everything fading to black.

* * *

The girl had been asleep for about a week, her body still recovering from the battle and blizzard was shrouded in warm furs. The old Nord woman, was cleaning the young woman's hair while she rested comfortably in the makeshift cot her husband made. Ember took it upon herself to make sure the girl survived. Using the sack of potions, the girl held in a death grip in what looked like a priest's satchel helped greatly. a little healing magic also helped speed up the girl's recovery. Ember couldn't help but see how beautiful the young lass was especially when all that bulky armor was removed. She could barely remember a time when she was that young.

The girl began to rustle a bit, nightmares of the battle raging in her head. Ember tried to comfort the girl as the she mumbled in her sleep about black wings and red hatred filled eyes, and fire raining down upon the battle.

None of it made sense, until her husband Kol came back from checking the battle field after the storm. He told her of the how the corpses not covered in snow were burned to a crisp. He also ran into a Stormcloak contingent, and they came claimed no one survived whatever had attacked the battle laid waste to both sides say for the woman in their hut. Kol didn't mention the girl through. Kol and herself knew full well it could only be one thing and that meant ol' Esbern was right about everything.

She continued to wash the girl's midnight colored hair. Ember took notice of how the roots were coming in as a bright white and continued to change the rest of her hair as the days pasted. Seeing this she remembered tales her mother would tell her of how Nords exposed to extremes of freezing temperatures, near deathly so, would cause a change in their hair color to that of a fresh snowfall. It was believed the magic in the Nord's blood was pushed to the extreme to protect them. It was a rare thing, to be Kissed-by-Ice as the term ancient term was translated out to was considered a blessing. The poor thing looked barely past her twentieth winter. Most could not survive such extremes, to do so was a mark of great strength in Nord culture. To fight Skyrim herself, and return from the encounter. It was considered a rebirth of sorts.

Ember smiled as the girl seemed to calm down, the worst of nightmare passing. Ember stood up quickly despite her age, and hung the rag to dry out for use later. She heard a stomping on wood as Kol emerged from the secret cellar in their small abode. She smiled as he came up the stairs, with a frown on his face.

"Your, armor a little tight in the gut Kol?" she inquired.

The man grumbled as he tugged on his beard in frustration as he moved to stoke the fireplace.

Ember let out a quite laugh at his antics. Just over thirty years of marriage enabling her to understand his mumblings as if they were his real speech.

"I told you should have kept better track of what you ate a long time ago," she smiled while she stood and walked across the room. She began to cut some dried vegetables up for the soup she was making.

Kol nodded as he moved up beside her grabbing a potato, and began slicing alongside her. She leaned into him as they worked to make the soup.

"You think she'll wake up today?" Kol said after sometime. She looked to him and the saw the sad look on his face. It was not unlike the look he had after their son left to join the Companions. They were proud, but joining the Companions was a lifelong commitment. Men and Women who joined gave up everything, even family and friends. He never wrote back once, and Kol never got over not hearing how his boy was doing. Hopefully he was alive, but that uncertainly always lingered.

"Yes, I do as a matter of fact," she looked to the girl on the cot, "She gets stronger every day. A far fetch from being moments away from Sovngarde's gates wouldn't you say?"

Kol nodded. He finished the last few cuts and threw the pieces into the pot. He picked up the potato peel and nibbled on it was he sat down in the old chair next to the fire while the stew cooked. Ember shook her head as she never understood why her husband enjoyed potato peels raw rather than cooked. She then fed the comatose woman the beef broth some the soup.

Kol kept his distance from the woman no doubt due to the girls relative age to their own son. He still cared for the girl's fate as he picked up more of Ember's usual chores so she'd have more time to care for the girl.

A low groan drew her away from her thoughts. Her head snapped back to see the girl was awake. Ember set the bowl of broth down. The girl looked around her eyes adjusting to the room. She tried to sit up in a panic, but Ember gently pushed her back down.

"Careful now, you're not fully healed yet." She sounded as comforting as she could but the girl still seemed out of it looking around the room like a frightened deer.

"Where am I?" she asked a bit nervous at waking up in a room of strangers.

"Somewhere safe. You were asleep for about a week. We were worried you wouldn't wake." The concern in Ember's voice was genuine and seemed to calm the young woman down some as she fully rested her head back.

"Now do you remember anything about how you got here?" Ember asked getting up to stir the soup pot and grab some soup for the girl.

The woman's eyes looked distant, her hands reaching to feel the scar on her stomach as she fully remembered the battle.

"The company I fought for was hired by the Stormcloaks to supplement their ranks." There was a pause as Ember saw her thoughts drift. "It was my first battle. It was so chaotic. Not near like what they tell you. I noticed the storm rolling in. I knew I be dead if I stayed. I was run through the gut before I could get fully away. That's when the creature showed up." The girl barely managed to croak out the last bit. Ember sat back on the cot as the girl recounted her tale of the creature. It only confirmed what she and Kol suspected. Long black wings, reptilian, and fire breathing meant Dragon's had returned to Tamiel. It fit what happened at the battle.

The girl tried to get up again. This time Ember helped her sit up only this time much more slowly and wrapped a cloth around the girl's chest to protect her modesty.

"You might be a little sore, but the extra healing potion in your sack fixed most of the damage. That and a little healing magic. Even with all that you barely survived."

She looked down at her wound were a thin scar could be seen. Ember watched while the girl ran her fingers around the edge. The girls seemed to taking in what happened, recounting how she got here.

She looked up and at Ember, "Thank you for saving my life." Her voice was silvery much like the new color her hair was starting to take on. Ember smiled.

"Think nothing of it, Kol and I needed a break from the monotony of our daily routine anyway." She made a dismissive gesture as she stood and walked over to the fire. She dumped the venison broth back into the soup pot and took small helping of the soup. She brought back over to the girl.

"Now take small bites. Tomorrow we'll try walking and getting your strength back. Kol here," she pointed at her husband who was still staring at the flames of the fire nodded. "He'll start helping you train. He wants to make sure you don't end in this position again."

"But I should get back to my company. They'll want to know that I survived." She stated.

Ember's face became downcast, "You were the only survivor."

"Of my company?"

"The battle," Ember stated.

The girl's face eyes widened as she registered what Ember told her. The bowl of stew in her lap started to tilt a bit. Ember caught it before it could splash.

"Just me?" the girl whispered.

"Yes, no one knows what happened."

"The beast."

"What?"

"It was that winged beast. It was hard to make out in the storm. Well it was more of a blur really. It breathed fire down on the soldiers. It hunted stragglers too. I… I think it was a dragon like from the tales my father used to tell me." Ember frowned earning an earnest look from the girl. Ember looked at Kol who nodded silently telling to go her ahead and confirm the girls guess.

"From what Kol said about the aftermath, it seems you may be right."

Relief flooded the girls face at not being seen as crazy. Ember knew full well if anyone else had found her, things would have gone differently at this point. Some would have called her a cowardly deserter and kicked her out of their home. Shor himself must have been watching over her during that battle if the girls luck was any guess.

"Now tomorrow we're going to test to see how well you healed. Kol is also going to be training you to fight better after we are certain you can move without endangering your yourself."

"But I know how to fight," the young woman said bitterly, "I was trained by my father, and he was in the legion." That earned a loud guffaw from Kol.

The girl glared at him. Ember smiled, cutting off the girl's retort with a change in subject, "So you got a name, lass?"

The girl nodded, "Rayne."

"Rayne…" Ember tried to draw out the name to get the woman to give Ember her full name.

"Just Rayne until I earn a last. Like in the old days. When who your father or mother was irrelevant. Like the ancients had to prove themselves so shall I." Rayne stated with pride in her voice.

Ember nodded, "Well Kol and I will happy to one day be able to say your full name then, but first you need rest and then the real work begins."

She took Rayne's empty bowl and the woman laid back into the cot. Ember gave Kol a look silently telling he may have his hands full.

* * *

"Tell me why I can't just go back to the Stormcloaks and tell them what happened?" Rayne asked. Kol replied with raining down a series of strikes which the woman barely had enough time to block. The long and light wooden sword Kol had her using was messing with her balance having been used to her old iron sword. The snowy terrain they were practicing on was also unpleasant. She also felt weak from the time in bed and her injuries still hurt with a dull ache. Kol seemed on unfazed by her discomfort and continued to train her as if she were at full health.

"Because there is a chance they may label you as a coward," Kol's gruff voice answered in between strikes, "The Imperials will no doubt try to execute you for fighting against them. That is why Ember sent a message to Whiterun hold for an audience with Jarl Bulgruff. The Jarl will not pass judgment on you or hand you over to anyone so you'll be safe. It will take time for a reply, but it'll arrive with a caravan that's coming through the village of the Loreiustead. Ember is also getting you a place on a Khajit caravan going to Whiterun. It should be coming through in a two weeks' time. By then we should be hearing back from the Jarl's steward. Though the Jarl's court is clogged with requests it will take time for them to sort it out." Kol swung at the girl again, smacking her this time in serval vital spots. She doubled over after the onslaught.

"Until then," he smirked, "I have much to teach you. Now stand straight and in a proper stance like I showed." The rest of their time outside the cabin went much the same. She collapsed on cot late into the night. Ember had gotten back from the nearby village. Rayne had hoped the training would lessen slightly. It only got worse. Ember had her doing bizarre lifts with strings attached to rocks. Strength training, she called it. Muscles she never knew were in existance screamed in agony as she rested. She had never been worked so hard in training, even the mercenary company she worked with didn't train this hard. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

She slept what barely seemed like an hour until Kol clapped ladle against the cooking pot. "Wake up," he shouted. "It is a wonderful morning to be alive. Get up get dressed and meet me outside in five minutes." When she was in her gear, she met him outside the cold morning air rushed over her. It washed away the recent grogginess and more training began. It was different today Kol had her running around a marked path. He ran alongside her the entire time. It drove her crazy that some old man was beating her so she ran harder, but her sore muscles protested. Kol surprised her by keeping up the entire time.

"Don't tire yourself out now." He warned, "We still have much to do."

After the running part was over, he taught some bare fisted fighting moves, which Rayne seemed to enjoy more than she thought she would. Kol still kicked her ass and after getting thrown on the ground multiple times, they moved back to the wooden swords from yesterday.

"Why do we fight with these sticks and not real sword?" she asked.

Kol replied by bypassing her defenses with ease and striking multiple times. Each one hurt too.

He smiled, "You're not quite ready for that, girl. Not yet at least."

He began showing her moves and techniques, he used acronyms that he explained. He then drilled her with sparring. She attacked a dummy. He would shout the technique acronyms and she would change her attack right away as fast she could.

After they finished for the day, she helped with chores and then when all was said and done they sat down.

"Ember, why didn't you have me doing strength training?"

"Because it is best to let your body heal a day after. Don't worry tomorrow will be like yesterday. Rayne groaned earning a snort from Kol leaned back in his chair.

"Don't worry girl. We're not training 'cause we hate you. We just don't want all our hard work to keep you in the land of the living to go to waste." Kol said standing and taking his empty bowl to the wash basin. Taking Ember's as well. He took Rayne's bowl too. She thanked him.

She looked at Ember, "When does that caravan come through Loreiusstead again?"

Ember chuckled. "Two weeks depending on the weather. Now you best get some rest. While you can."

Rayne nodded and heeded the woman's advice.

The rest of the week went on much the same with Rayne starting to get the hang of the new fighting style Kol was teaching. Ember's physical training was still hard, but getting easier as well. Kol seemed to enjoy the training more too. Ember even joined in too, and even showed her how to properly draw a bow and make snares.

So at the end of the week they took the day off. It was a great day for one. The sun was shining and it felt a bit warmer as she ran through the woods still at least getting her running done. She stopped and sat on a stump staring out at scenery. Ember and Kol's cabin was located in a rock niche beside a hill. The snows didn't really pile up there, making it a great spot for a cabin. The trees weren't too dense, but compared to the lack of any plant life where the Battle of Pale Valley was fought then it might as well have been a forest.

She sat there for some time, wondering how the older couple new so much. All the things she had learned seemed to be more higher order military tactics and styles then what a simple mercenary or soldier received. Her father wasn't as good as Kol. Rayne recognized some of what Ember was teaching her. It seemed like scout training, only more advanced. Then she saw Ember use a bow. it was a jaw dropping moment. She never thought she see a non-wood elf shoot so good.

Rayne pushed of the stump. Kol and Ember had given her a second chance. So she soaked up all they had to learn so their efforts to keep her alive would not be in vain.

She took off down the rest of the trail with purpose, ready for another week of intense training. She smiled while she ran on. Her muscles now longer ached. It seemed her body was beginning to love every second of it just as much as she was.


End file.
